


golden hour

by hellalujah



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Smoking, so much smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 03:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9302198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellalujah/pseuds/hellalujah
Summary: Nothing like a pre-dawn walk in the woods to sort out your feelings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> part of the college au no one - who am i kidding everyone wants a college au
> 
> an itty bitty gift for the other k. thank you for inspiring me so much since we've started talking, i value your existence like hella!!!
> 
> thanks @ [caz](http://officialmatzo.tumblr.com) for betaing and as always supporting me thru the writing process
> 
> soundtrack: [sea oleena - orion's eyes](https://seaoleena.bandcamp.com/track/orions-eyes)

_Tap tap tap._

Hugo turns his face more firmly into his pillow, tugs his blanket up a little higher around him. It’s still dark in his room, he can tell even without opening his eyes.

He huffs out a contented sigh. He’s got a few hours of sleep left and he’s going to make them count.

 _Tap tap tap_.

His bed is so warm and comfortable. _Hugo_ is warm and comfortable and -

“Hugo!”

Hugo's eyes crack open reflexively.

It's still completely dark in his room apart from the dull red glow of his alarm clock. He squints. It's 5:15 and good _god_ , he doesn't have to be up until nine or really whenever, all he has to do today is finish his essay so -

“Hugo, are you up yet?”

Hugo forces himself to turn over and rubs blearily at his eyes for a second. Squints again, this time at the window.

Porter's flailing an arm at him from outside.

Right. The sunrise.

“It's almost five thirty!” Porter calls and Hugo expects him to be indignant or irritated but mostly he just looks a little… wired.

“Give me a moment,” Hugo manages, pressing his fingertips to the window briefly in what he hopes is a reassuring way. “Just… just a moment.”

\---

It takes Hugo ten minutes to brush his teeth and groggily struggle into his glasses and his clothes and his boots, to wrangle his hair into a lazy sort of bun on the top of his head, and he thinks Porter should be satisfied with that. It’s got to be some sort of record really, and all that without coffee.

He’s got a cigarette in his hand already by the time he staggers out the front door of the dorm building and Porter’s there, practically vibrating under the glow of a streetlight.

“We have to _go_ ,” he hisses, shoving something into Hugo’s hands. It takes a moment to process that it’s a Starbucks cup, still reasonably warm, and Hugo groans thankfully before taking a sip.

“It would’ve been hot if you had been on time,” Porter says and when Hugo looks up he realizes he’s already walking away.

“I forgot to set my alarm,” Hugo tells him as he rushes to catch up. Porter’s moving awfully fast for this time of morning and Hugo eyes him warily. “When did you get up?”

“Haven’t slept!” Porter says cheerfully. He tips his own cup all the way back and drains it, then tosses it off to the side and it sinks neatly into a garbage can Hugo hadn’t even noticed.

He takes another sip of his own coffee and realizes he’s still got his unlit cigarette between his fingers. He sticks it in his mouth and fumbles around in his pockets for a lighter.

The first lungful of smoke wakes him more fully than coffee ever does and his breath comes out in a happy cloud. Porter doesn't say anything about it for once but Hugo can feel his gaze on him so he glances over.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?”

The explosive, exasperated breath Porter lets out nearly startles Hugo into dropping his coffee but he manages to keep it in his hand, even manages to get his cigarette back up to his mouth as Porter launches into a tirade about lighting and something called the blue hour and the golden hour.

The sky is going a lighter shade of dark in the east and a streetlight flickers out as they pass under it. Hugo smiles and takes another drag.

\---

By the time they’ve trudged through the woods and up to the ridge the horizon is starting to glow pale yellow. Blue hour, Porter tells him, gesturing around at the way cool light is streaming through naked branches. It’s not what he wants for his photos but he explains it anyway as the time when the sun is still just barely below the horizon.

“It’s lovely,” Hugo says and Porter shoots him a look but Hugo means it. It's not cold out but with the sun still hidden away the light makes it feel like it could be. It's eerie and beautiful and really, truly lovely.

They get set up on the edge of the forest at the overlook and Porter’s muttering the whole time about how much he hates his tripod, complaining about uneven ground and something about _shitty, shitty fucking film stock_. Hugo sits delicately on a fallen tree, and he thinks it’s mostly dry but he tucks his coat under himself anyway.

He lights another cigarette and stares out at the lightening sky. It _is_ lovely, this time of day. Hugo doesn’t mind waking up so early and he’s really feeling quite alert now, with four cigarettes and some espresso in him.

Porter drops onto the log next to him and exhales, stretches long and languid and Hugo watches him out of the corner of his eye with a little smile.

“All good to go?”

Porter hums. “Yep,” he says, and he’s starting to sound a bit like he’s flagging. “Just need to wait for the sun to come up. I’ll get a shot of that and then some of golden hour in the forest. Some of you, probably.”

Hugo laughs. “I’m modeling today, am I?”

“When are you _not_ modeling,” Porter mumbles. He lets his head fall to rest against Hugo’s shoulder and Hugo’s arm automatically comes up to wrap around his waist, to keep him steady. “The sun’ll be up soon,” Porter says, interrupting himself with a yawn. “Maybe… I don’t know, twenty minutes…”

He trails off and when Hugo looks down at him his eyes are closed.

Hugo takes a slow drag of his cigarette and Porter starts to snore quietly. In the bluish light of early morning Porter looks soft and peaceful, even with deep, omnipresent circles of shadow under his closed eyes. Almost cherubic, like some captivating offspring of Aphrodite and Hugo has to stifle a laugh.

Porter’s lashes flutter against his cheeks and he snuffles, then sighs, turns his face into Hugo’s jacket.

Hugo thinks he might be in love with Porter.

He _loves_ Porter, yes, he’s known this for weeks now. But…

He takes a considering drag off his smoke and lets himself watch Porter’s face. Yeah, he thinks, he’s probably in love.

The sky is painted in streaks of golden-orange and the sun is finally peeking over the horizon when Hugo shakes Porter gently to wake him.

“What - I’m up, I’m up.” Porter’s slurring his words but his eyes are open and Hugo lets go of his waist so he can sit up fully.

“You looked so peaceful,” Hugo says, digging his cigarettes out of his packet and getting another between his lips. “I didn’t want to wake you but…” He gestures vaguely out at the horizon.

“Yeah, thanks, of course,” Porter says. He blinks blearily and then scrubs at his face with the heel of one hand, heaves himself up off the log to go to his camera.

Hugo’s cigarette catches and he watches Porter shuffle through the leaves, watches him kneel behind the camera and adjust the lens with careful fingers.

When Porter sits back away from the camera Hugo doesn’t gasp exactly but he has to suck in a steadying breath. Like this, in the early morning light, Porter’s face is gilded; eyes lidded heavily against the flare of the sun, lips pursed into a pensive sort of pout.

He looks divine.

Hugo brings his cigarette back to his lips and smiles. “Golden hour,” he says under his breath.

Porter looks back at him, blinking owlishly. “What?”

Hugo grins at him. “Nice lighting.”


End file.
